


College One-Shots

by ravenienne



Series: Powerless Universe (AU) [4]
Category: Daredevil (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Blind Character, Blindness, Deaf Character, Deaf Foggy, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-12
Updated: 2018-07-12
Packaged: 2019-06-09 12:35:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,967
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15267624
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ravenienne/pseuds/ravenienne
Summary: One-shots of Matt and Foggy, and the rest of the gang, in college, in my Powerless AU





	College One-Shots

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An encounter late at night on the way back from the library

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW for homophobic slurs and ableist comments. (As a side note, remember this would be taking place in 2008 -- doesn’t make it okay, but made it more common). Also, TW for assault (non-sexual) and a discussion about reporting it.

“All right, Matt, it’s…” Foggy whistled lowly, “...nearing two in the morning. My brain is fried and either the words are starting to float off the page or my eyes are playing tricks on me. You ready to pack it up?”

Matt sighed and moved a place marker onto his page, stretching out his fingers as he sat back. “Yeah, you’re right. We still have tomorrow, right?”

“Matt, I’m shaking my head at you. We have spent literally our entire Saturday at the library -- part of our Sunday already, actually -- and you are suggesting we spend the rest of our weekend studying, too?”

Matt frowned. “It’s an important test, Foggy.”

Foggy sighed. “I hate Monday exams. And stupid schedules with 8 AM classes. What happened to weekends of parties and luscious co-eds?”

“After the exam,” Matt said firmly as he packed his books and laptop back into his backpack.

“Ah -- I am holding you to that! This time you’re coming with me!”

“Shh, Foggy, library,” Matt admonished, smiling.

“Sorry.”

They were crossing in front of one of the frat houses a few minutes later, on the way to their dorm with Matt holding onto Foggy’s elbow. Matt winced as they passed it, wishing he could drown out the overdriven thumping bass spilling out of what was clearly a wild party.

“Now see, this is how to spend your Saturday night, Matt. Even I can hear that bass,” Foggy said enthusiastically.

Instead of replying, Matt stiffened, listening to a group of loud kids, probably drunk, approaching them from behind on the path, probably having just come out of the party.

_“Dude, she was so toasted--”_

_“Completely smashed! Did you see her--”_

_“--Oh, hey! Look what we have here, couple of--”_

_“--Dude, shut up!--”_

_“Couple of homos, huh?”_

_“F*gs!”_

_“Dude, shut the f*ck up!”_

“Matt, something wrong? Did I say something?” Foggy paused and turned to catch Matt’s response.

Matt shook his head. “It’s nothing, just thought I heard something.”

_“Oh I recognize that kid, he’s in one of my classes! Dude, he’s deaf, he can’t hear us anyway--”_

_“The other one isn’t.”_

_Laughter. “Dude, I just noticed, he’s blind--”_

_“Cut it out, guys. Seriously, not cool, man.”_

Matt relaxed slightly as it sounded like the more level-headed of the group was managing to keep them under control, and their voices faded as Matt and Foggy turned to cross the street towards their dorm.

The next night, Foggy left Matt at the library around 7 PM, claiming he had stuffed as much information as he could into his brain without it exploding. Matt insisted he was fine by himself (“Foggy, I know the way to and from the library, we’re halfway into our third semester”) and that he was almost done and would be along shortly.

Of course, it wasn’t until five hours later at around midnight that he finally packed up and left the library. Walking down the path with his cane tap-tapping in front of him, he breathed in deeply, enjoying the smell of early fall and turning leaves, a scent that wasn’t always easy to find in the city. He tried to ignore the lingering sounds of various end-of-the-weekend parties (it seemed college students would come up with just about any excuse for a party), until he heard a couple of vaguely familiar voices ahead of him on the path.

“Hey look, isn’t that--”

“It’s the same kid! Mr. Magoo!”

He walked quickly, following the turn on the path into the short narrow alley between the ends of two campus buildings, a shortcut toward the street he needed to cross. However, he heard their raucous laughter approach him, intercepting him just past the turn.

The one with the deeper, more gravelly voice addressed him, “Magoo, where’s your boyfriend?” His friend laughed obnoxiously, sounding not unlike a braying donkey.

Matt ignored them, gritting his teeth and continuing forward. When his cane hit one of their shoes, he tried to navigate around them, but he felt an arm coming across his chest, blocking him, and next thing he knew his cane had been snatched out of his grip.

“Hey, when you bump into someone, the polite thing to do is say ‘excuse me’ and apologize,” Gravel-voice informed him.

“Yeah, I might’ve gotten hurt with you waving that thing around,” Donkey put in. “Surprised they let you keep it, dangerous thing like that.”

Matt’s heart picked up its pace. “I’m just trying to get home, guys. Please, let me pass.”

“Oh, now he knows his manners!” Gravel-voice.

“What do you think?”

“Well, he didn’t say sorry, I don’t think he’s learned his lesson.”

Matt briefly considered surreptitiously pulling out his phone to try to dial 911 or even call Foggy, then remembered that he had stuffed his phone into his backpack rather than his pocket. Frightened and feeling desperate, smelling their alcohol-heavy breath looming over him, he barreled into one of them, trying to shoulder-check him out of the way to slip between them. He wasn’t sure what his plan would be after that, particularly without his cane, but it turned out not to matter anyway since he only managed a glancing blow and ended up tangled in one of their arms.

“Why you little--” Thwap! Crrck!

The two blows came in quick succession, one to his solar plexus and one to his face, and he reeled back, doubled over and clutching at his nose, then tripped over something -- trash, maybe? -- and ended up sitting heavily on the ground.

“Crap.” Donkey. “C’mon, we should let him go. I don’t want to get in trouble.”

Gravel-voice scoffed and spit off to the side. “Fine. He’s not worth it.”

There was a clatter, then their footsteps headed back towards campus and faded away.

As Matt steadied his breathing, still sitting on the ground, and the adrenaline began to fade, the embarrassment began to sink in. How could he have let those guys get to him like that? A couple of drunks and he just… let them scare him, let them beat him up? He could go multiple rounds on the punching bag, but he couldn’t get one shot in? He felt a deep welling of shame as he shifted to his hands and knees, starting to pat around in the general area he thought he had heard the clatter, hoping to find his cane and maybe his sunglasses. He needed to get home, just get home and he could crawl into bed and forget about this night, and to do that he needed his cane-- crap.

Matt stifled a small sob as he felt one of the segments of what used to be his cane. It seemed like the elastic cord inside that kept it together when open and allowed it to fold when collapsed had snapped, scattering the four segments. He had found the tip, but by itself it was useless. He picked it up anyway, standing and trying to pull himself together. Okay, think. He could call Foggy. Well, text him - he knew well enough which letters corresponded to the numbers. Foggy would be willing to come get him. He would just tell him he’d… he’d tripped and hit his head and his cane had somehow broken in the process. It would be embarrassing, but he’d laugh it off and they’d be fine.

After five minutes of texting, calling to try to get his attention with the buzzing of the vibrations, and texting more, Matt finally admitted defeat. Foggy had probably fallen asleep, maybe forgotten to set his phone by his bed or turned it off. Whatever the case was, he didn’t seem to be an option right now. Matt briefly considered calling campus police, but quickly dismissed the idea, not wanting to bother them and not wanting them to investigate the incident too carefully. Even if he just called for a safe ride home, he probably looked a mess, and he didn’t think they would let it go without asking lots of questions. What could they do anyway? Matt wouldn’t be able to identify the men, there weren’t any witnesses, and he didn’t want to deal with a whole report and investigation only for nothing to come of it.

Well, he wasn’t far from their dorm. He could make it. With that decided, he carefully moved towards the city end of the short alley, keeping one hand trailing the wall while the other clutched the piece of his cane. When he found the sidewalk and the main street, he turned left, still keeping one hand on the side of the building.

The normally short trip felt long, and slow, and nerve-wracking. He felt vulnerable, exposed without his sunglasses and insecure and lacking his usual confidence without his cane. Navigation had become an exponentially more difficult process, with him stumbling multiple times and feeling like each step was being taken into a void, something he had not experienced since the early days after his accident. But not only that, although he had initially somewhat resented his cane for being a marker of his blindness, an indicator of disability, he now appreciated that it signalled to others that he could not see. It made people more likely to move out of his way (although with New Yorkers that was never a guarantee), and alerted cars that he could not see them. As he approached the intersection where he usually crossed, making his way across the open void of the sidewalk towards the button for the cross signal, he thought he had never appreciated that more.

Somehow, he made it home safely. Crawling under his covers, finally, he didn’t think he had ever been so happy to be in his bed. Tomorrow, he would take his test, he would deal with Foggy’s questions, and he would figure out acquiring a new cane ASAP (and perhaps a spare to keep handy). But for now, sleep.

xxXxx

“Matt, I don’t care what you say, you are not a good liar. Your face is a dead give-away. I do not buy that you tripped on your way home and managed to bust up your face, lose your sunglasses, and break your cane. And, from the way you’re moving, it doesn’t even look like that’s the full extent of the damage. Who did this to you, and why do you not want to report it?”

“Foggy, I…” His voice trailed off. How could he make Foggy understand?

“Matt.” He heard his friend sit down on the bed next to him. “Look, I do get it. Well, kind of. But… you want to be a lawyer, right? We’re both pre-law. That means you must have some amount of faith in the system. I know you -- you’re not in it for the money, you’re in it for the justice.

“If you report it, they may never find the guys. And if they do find them, they may still get off. And, I guess there is a version of this where it puts you in danger. But… if these kinds of crimes never get reported, then the system can never do anything about it, and it can never get better at doing something about it. And, reporting it just might prevent these guys from doing it again.”

Matt opened his mouth to speak but Foggy continued on.

“I don’t want to force you to do this. And if you give it serious thought and decide you don’t want to, I won’t push you on it. It’s your choice, and I will respect your decision. And I don’t want you to think that I’ll think you’re wrong for not reporting it, because I won’t. I see the reasons to not report it, too. Just… can you give it some thought?”

Slowly, Matt nodded. “I’ll think about it.”


End file.
